From Mischief To Mayhem
by T Stark
Summary: Lost, hurting, and willing to die, Loki finds himself in a strange, frightening new world after his fall from the Bifrost. As time passes, he is helpless as he is tortured and brutally molded into the weapon sent to retrieve the Tesseract. ONE-SHOT


"I could have done it, Father! For you! For all of us..."

"No, Loki."

_No, Loki._

The words seem to hang in the air. Every feeling Odin has ever had toward me- or lack thereof- is summed up in those two words.

_No, Loki._

All the disappointment, all the wasted hope for my success. All of that in those two words. I search his face for any sign of approval- any at all- but find nothing. I have failed him. Again.

For the last time.

Thor can see my hand weaken its grip on the scepter, and I hear him yell for me to hold on. But why? I can only think of two reasons. Maybe he will miss his little brother, miss the one he can put in his place when he himself needs be reminded just how mighty he is. Either that, or he desires to fulfill the promise he made when we were children. To hunt the monsters down and slay them all. Myself included. Well, I won't allow him to do so. Besides, he has already killed me.

My eyes are locked on Odin's, portraying my silent message: "I'm sorry".

I let go.

It will all be over soon. I fall for a long time. Falling so far, so slowly. Never ending. Oh, just end it already! I feel an indistinguishable jerk and I am moving much more rapidly. Tumbling through midair. Just stay calm, Loki. It will all be over soon.

It does end after a while, though not in the way which I had intended. I feel my body slam into a hard, foreign ground. Battered, bleeding, but very much alive. I cautiously lift myself unto my feet, though I must support myself by clinging to a rock. _Where in the Nine Realms am I? _This question repeats in my mind as I take in my surroundings. For a moment, I believe I see movement out of the corner of my eye, but I must dismiss it.

It is difficult to see, as light is all but absent. My question sounds again. _Where in the nine realms am I? _And then there is the other mystery. _How did I survive that fall? _

Without even the slightest hint of a warning, I feel strange, unfamiliar hands on my throat. Frightened and confused, I fight back as best I can, but it my current state, it proves not enough. These- How many? Two?- beings keep a firm grasp on me, communicating in a language I know not. This is the last thing I hear before they bash my head against a rock, and I instantly lose consciousness.

I awaken to find myself with my wrists chained above my head to a stone at least twice as tall as I am. I am able to bend my knees, though fall short of being able to do much more than that. I admit that I am on the verge of panic. Who did this to me? And why?

I suddenly feel that my wrists are free, and waste no time taking advantage of the situation. Before I can make a run for it, there is a hand on my shoulder, causing me to freeze in sheer terror. "Kneel." This new voice demands with a raspy intensity.

I can barely manage a whisper. "Wha-"

"I said kneel!" There is an impact so strong it causes me to fall to my hands and knees. Whoever has done this chuckles at my small noise of pain. "You think you can escape, Asgardian?" How does he know who I am? "You have come a long way. With so little purpose left, you refuse to fight back. You cannot bare to see yourself as you truly are. You long for death." I begin to look up at him, to ask him how he knows all of this. I open my mouth, which he does not appreciate. "That was not a question!" Something brutally comes in contact with the back of my head, and I fall silent once again. "I know everything about you. I can kill you as easily, as painfully as you could ever imagine. Or, you will do as I say. You will fulfill my Master's wishes." He then orders me to stand. I have never seen anything like him. I do everything I can to keep from trembling, but to no avail. "Shall we get started?"

My commands are simple. I am in a S.H.I.E.L.D base- I've no idea exactly where it is. No one can see me. It feels almost normal. I watch and listen. "Legend tells us one thing; history, another. But every now and then, we find something that belongs to both." I smirk a bit. Sort of like me. The mortal with the eye patch opens a metal case to reveal a glowing blue cube like nothing I've ever seen before.

"What is it?" The man Thor had befriended, Selvig, I believe his name is, asks the question which we both share. He gets a vague response of "Power, Doctor. If we can figure out how to tap it, maybe unlimited power." I cannot forget what I have been sent here to do, though I've no idea why I must do it.

Taking a step closer to Selvig, I whisper in his ear. "Well, I guess that's worth a look." When he repeats my words, I can only smile to myself. It feels good to have a sense of power. However, I do not have long to enjoy it. I am transported back to that dark, threatening place. Two warriors, which I have by now learned to go by the name of Chitauri, pin me against a slab of flat rock, where chains materialize to once again hold my wrists above my head. "What are you doing?" I ask, frantic. "Please, I've done what you asked!" I have been reduced to begging. Pathetic.

The one who found me- The Other, he insists on being called- stands with his face close to mine. "Now you wait. Your time will come again." I am left alone with nothing but the sound of my pleas.

Time has passed. My wrists are raw, hair having grown to my shoulders. It has been just short of a year. I've been counting. There is a fire only feet away from me. To most, this would only be mildly uncomfortable, but these people know what I am. And what better way to torture a Frost Giant? The heat exhaustion has long since set in. I can barely see straight, and it takes everything I have to stay conscious. The Other appears with two Chitauri guards. "Are you ready to continue?" My condition makes me unable to comprehend what he says for a moment. A moment too long. He picks up a metre-long metal pole from the fire and places the glowing tip against my bare chest. This is not a new occurrence, it has been going on for almost the entire time I have been here. I scream in agony, my skin, by natural instinct, turns that loathsome blue around the burn in an attempt to counteract the attack. There are many scars on my arms and chest where this same thing has been done. "So, I ask again. Are you ready to continue?"

My breaths are staggered. "Y- yes. Just no more. Please, no more." Noticing how afraid of the pain I am, he ignores my begging and does just what I've asked him not to.

The chains suddenly vanish, and I find myself too weak to stand. My first instinct is to wipe my brow, where blood mingles with sweat and threatens to slide into my eyes. "You called yourself a king. Yet you are nothing but a monster." I do not respond. "He could make you a king again." I know who "he" is. Thanos. The one in charge of this entire operation.

"What...?" The word comes out in a lengthy exhale.

The Other takes a fistful of my hair and forces me to my feet. My knees are weak, but I manage. "You will retrieve the Tesseract for him. And in return, you will be in command of our Chitauri army, which will allow you to win the Earth." I find myself nodding, though I've no idea why. I don't want to be a king. All that power I had before, it was too much. It made me into something I barely recognized. All but the confusion in my heart. "Kill anyone who dares get in your way."

I take a few steps back, shaking my head. "N- no." A prod from the burning metal, and my same reaction. "No, I- I won't! I won't kill! I won't do it!" This could very well be suicide. The year has taken a toll on me. My thin figure has gotten even more so, eyes sunken in from both the heat exhaustion and sleepless nights. Tears are running down my hollow cheeks. I will not be a murderer. I will not be the monster I was born to be.

The Other shoves me against the rock once again, the chains returning. I continue yelling long after he is gone.

He returns after about an hour. He holds in his hand... What is it? A scepter? A spear? Either way, it is gold, with a gleaming silver blade on the end. A blue gem emits its own ominous glow. It gives off a bad aura. So this is it, then. He's going to kill me.

He approaches me. "If you are not willing to do as you're told..." He holds the tip in line with my chest. It's time. He's going to kill me. "You will be soon enough."

The weapon is not plunged into my heart. Instead, The Other allows it to rest just on the surface of the skin. There is a moment when I am completely unable to move as all the anger, betrayal and hurt I have collected over my lifetime comes rushing to the surface and is intensified more than I knew possible. My vision blurs, and I see a blue flash of light. I am no longer me.

The chains disappear for the last time, and are replaced by new clothing for me. The Other hands me the scepter without a word. I need no instructions. The scepter and I are one now. My head is filled with new outlooks, new ideas. Watching their world fall. Having all the mortals kneel before me. _Revenge._

This is the Loki who is sent to Midgard.


End file.
